


Pride Comes Before A Fall

by DottyasaDalmation



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Musketeers being brothers, Punishment, d'Artagnan in trouble, especially Aramis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DottyasaDalmation/pseuds/DottyasaDalmation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>d'Artagnan has a really good day ... then a really bad one. Set between S1 Ep1 and 2. It is slightly AU from the series in that it is set in the summer months and I have probably added more weeks between Ep1 and 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read my other stories and left kudos or comments. This one is the first one I started to write months ago before I discovered the world of fanfic.

d’Artagnan was a few weeks into his training and he felt confident that he was improving, albeit slowly at times. There was so much to learn and even he, impatient as he was, knew he couldn’t expect to take it all in at once. His mentor, Athos, often told him how well he was doing. This was usually through a nod of the head, a single word or an encouraging look but it was praise all the same from his serious, taciturn trainer. Athos was very strict with him and made him practice over and over again until he satisfied his mentor’s high standards and d’Artagnan lived for the moments when he finally got something correct and received praise for it.

However, he was struggling, really struggling, with his first experience of the heat of Paris. He was often the first to complain about rising temperatures but on the farm the heat hadn’t bothered him as much because he could take off some clothing, have a quick dip in the cool, clear stream that ran through part of his farm, or, sometimes, opt to do a chore in the shade but here in Paris there was little escape from the heat trapped in the narrow streets that quickly grew to stifling, furnace-like temperatures during the day and only really cooled down in the hour before dawn. Back on the farm in Gascony the heat of the day was usually dispelled by cool night breezes allowing him to sleep comfortably. For three, or possibly four, nights (he was so tired he had lost count) he had barely slept despite being exhausted by the time he collapsed into bed. He tossed and turned in the heat that blanketed him and only dropped off to sleep an hour or so before he had to get up again. Sleepless nights on the farm occurred due to various emergencies or sudden changes in the weather but he had never experienced anything like this and he wasn’t coping very well with it.

He pushed his tiredness to the back of his mind, he was training to be a soldier and not just any soldier but one of the best: a Musketeer. He was willing to suffer through the heat and sleepless nights to achieve his dream. He could do this. He just had to focus and get through it. The heat couldn’t last forever. He tried to forget how hot and tired he was and focus on the task at hand. Aramis was conducting his training that morning and the sharpshooter had just challenged him to a shooting contest to round off the morning’s session. The winner would be decided on the best of five shots. d’Artagnan loaded, carefully aimed and fired delighted to discover he had hit the target dead centre. Aramis followed with his first shot and easily matched his achievement. Shot followed shot and d’Artagnan was pleased to find he was fairly close to matching Aramis’ skill for the first time since joining his new companions. The sharpshooter was extremely satisfied with his performance and was quick to praise him. Treville had been watching too and he came over, put a hand on his shoulder and quietly said, ‘Good work d’Artagnan. We’ll soon make a Musketeer out of you.’ The young lad went off to lunch feeling elated, even more so when Aramis commented on his growing skill in front of the other inseparables. 

After lunch d’Artagnan was assigned guard duty at the garrison gate. Although he wasn’t a Musketeer yet, he was expected to participate in the full range of duties as part of his training. Guard and parade duty were a nightmare at this time of year because they required standing under the relentless burning sun, sometimes for hours. The child within felt like screaming or shouting to protest that it wasn’t fair but the young lad managed to keep a hold on his temper and not react: something he found very difficult. As he walked to the gateway, he felt proud of himself. So far he had managed to avoid getting in trouble, losing his temper or talking back but it had certainly been a challenge. He was determined to prove to everyone that he was no longer a boy but a man capable of taking on the responsibilities of being a Musketeer and protecting his King and country. 

After he had proved himself worthy of aspiring to be a Musketeer by helping to save Athos’ life a few weeks ago, Treville had spoken to him about training, including the discipline and hard work involved. d’Artagnan had listened carefully as his Captain had gone over some of the rules and expectations such as being punctual, presentable and obeying every order given by a superior without question whether he agreed with it or not. Athos had been present for this discussion and at the end Treville finished by giving his new recruit a piece of advice, ‘Learn all you can from my best soldiers but remember what I have told you and don’t pick up their bad habits. They have earned a certain amount of freedom over the years by earning my respect and trust but you are starting at the beginning and need to build up that trust and respect before you are given any freedom to do likewise. It might seem that there is one rule for them and one for you but that is certainly not the case. I was just as strict with Athos, Porthos and Aramis when they first joined. However, I have absolutely no tolerance of fighting, duelling or brawling with Red Guards no matter how long you have been a Musketeer. Understand?’ 

‘Yes, sir,’ d’Artagnan nodded. ‘I understand. I will prove to you that you have made the right decision to train me.’ 

‘Good. That’s what we expect of you. While we are here,’ Treville had then turned to Athos, ‘Now might be a good time to remind you and your two companions that fighting with Red Guards is prohibited. I hope the rumours I have been hearing are false as I have no wish to act upon them. Dismissed.’ 

Athos had simply nodded, said something about passing that on and left the office with the new recruit in tow. When they were safely out of Treville’s hearing, Athos had told him that if he wanted to fight with Red Guards that was his choice, but just don’t get caught doing it. So far, he had been kept so busy with training that he hadn’t had any chances to make that choice but he had taken Treville’s advice to heart, conscientiously performing his duties and diligently doing all that was asked of him. 

On reaching the gate, he greeted his fellow Musketeer and then took up position on the left side. There was little shade here and the sun beat down upon him sapping his strength. He tried to maintain his alertness despite the heat and his exhaustion but, in spite of his best efforts, he felt his eyelids drooping a few times before he snapped them open and stamped his feet to keep himself vigilant. 

He then tried to keep his mind active by scrutinising every individual on the street. A smartly dressed woman looking as if she was in a hurry but trying not to show it; a scruffy child running pulling a toy on a string; and two gentlemen on horseback deep in conversation, their hands seemingly doing much of the talking. d’Artagnan idly wondered what they were conversing about but his thoughts were interrupted by a Musketeer, Luc, leaving the garrison with Treville calling after him. 

Treville passed on further instructions to Luc at the gate while d’Artagnan turned back to the street to resume his observations. His eye was drawn to a wizened old woman approaching, hobbling slowly looking as if she was on the way back home from the market. He felt sorry for her, obviously having no-one to look after her. He was about to shift his gaze to someone else when he noticed a glint of metal. He looked more closely. The old woman was a man, and a middle-aged man at that, who was now moving slightly faster with his eyes fixed on Treville. The man pretended to stumble and raised his arm to steady himself, preparing to launch a knife towards Treville. Without thinking of the danger, d’Artagnan leapt forward and tackled the man to the ground landing on top and twisting the knife out of the attacker’s hand before he knew what was happening. At the same moment, Treville noticed what his newest recruit was doing and started to yell at him for attacking old ladies. A second later Treville saw the knife and the old woman for what he really was and came to d’Artagnan’s aid. The man was quickly restrained and Treville took him away for questioning leaving those at the gate wondering what the motive had been. Luc excused himself soon after saying he had better go and carry out his duty. d’Artagnan and his companion resumed their guard duty. 

Later that evening d’Artagnan was eating with the three inseparables when Treville came over. He clapped a hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder and said, ‘Well done lad. Your vigilance and quick response saved me this afternoon. That man has had a grudge against me for a while now and took his chance when he saw me by the gate. Apparently he has passed by in disguise several times recently just waiting for the chance that presented itself today. He is safely in the Chatelet now awaiting justice.’ The others all joined in congratulating d’Artagnan with promises to buy him drinks at the tavern later. The newest recruit once again felt very proud. He looked around the table: he was so lucky to have found friends like these men. Despite his tiredness it had been a really good day.


	2. First Encounter With Trouble

d'Artagnan is sitting under the shade of a tree, feet dangling in blissfully cool water. By his side sits Constance the beautiful woman he had first met when he was being pursued through the market soon after his arrival in Paris. They turn towards each other and their eyes meet. Their lips soon follow. He closes his eyes and relaxes into the passionate kiss letting her push him backwards to lie on the grass. She pulls away from him and looks into his eyes. Pressing a hand on his shoulder she whispers his name. When he just smiles dreamily up at her she becomes more insistent shaking him and repeating his name louder. 

‘Constance, what’s got into you? Why are you shaking me?’ 

‘Because you need to wake up.’ 

After a moment of confusion he realised he had been dreaming. His heart skipped a beat as he jumped out of bed then realised that Constance was in the room and he was only wearing his underwear. Embarrassed, he thanked Constance for waking him and, as gently and politely as he could in these circumstances, pushed her out of the door. 

Cursing, he hastily got dressed. He was late, very late. He could tell by the position of the sun in his room that it was about 9 am: he had been ordered to be at training by 8 am. He cursed the heat for continually robbing him of his sleep. It had now been a week since he had had a proper night’s sleep. He was still only finally drifting off in the hour or so before dawn when temperatures were at their coolest, although ‘coolest’ was a relative term.

Leaving the house, he ran all the way to the garrison getting hotter, sweatier and hungrier in the process. He wondered if he could sneak in - he knew Aramis had got away with that once after a long, passionate night with yet another woman whose husband was out of town on business. He remembered that Treville had told him that a great deal was expected of him - any slip ups and he would be disciplined. If Treville or Athos had missed him already then he knew he was in trouble. 

Any thoughts about sneaking in vanished when he realised Captain Treville had been watching him racing towards the gate. His heart sank. He sighed and braced himself for the inevitable reprimand he was about to receive. So much for his unblemished record. He slowly, and with some trepidation, approached the captain who was standing at the bottom of the stairs to his office. 

‘What time do you call this?’ the captain yelled at him. ‘You were ordered to be here at eight - it is now after nine. If you have any hope of being a musketeer you need to obey orders and be where you are told to be, when you are told to be! Do you have anything to say for yourself?’

‘I apologise Captain. It won’t happen again,’ d'Artagnan replied meekly choosing, wisely he thought, not to go into detail about why he was late. A soldier should be able to cope with sleepless nights after all and he didn’t want to give Treville any more reason to doubt his ability to be a Musketeer. 

‘Let’s hope not. So that you remember, you can spend the next hour mucking out the stables and doing any other task that Jacques needs done. You can catch up with the two hours training you have missed in your own time.’

Musketeers usually took on the responsibility of caring for their own horses and the Gascon was no exception to that rule. He took pleasure in feeding and caring for his horse but, like most of the others, left the heavier more mundane tasks such as mucking out to Jacques who was employed to do just that. 

‘Athos won’t be happy with me,’ d'Artagnan thought ruefully as he walked towards the stables to begin his punishment. ‘Oh well, it could be worse. Far worse. Treville has been lenient probably because I haven’t been in trouble before. At least I know horses as that’s something I did every day in Gascony. Won’t be a pleasant job in this heat though.’

It wasn’t. A gruelling hour later d'Artagnan emerged from the stables hotter, sweatier and smellier than when he arrived. He cleaned himself up as best and as quickly as he could before searching for his three new friends with a renewed resolve to stay clear of any more trouble.


	3. Second Encounter With Trouble

‘Hey, d'Artagnan where’ve you been? Athos is getting worried about you.’ d'Artagnan turned at the familiar voice of Porthos who was standing with Aramis taking shelter under the eaves from the heat. 

‘Yeah. He’s not happy about you being late,’ added Aramis.

‘Neither was the captain. He sent me to muck out the stables. I’ve just finished.’ 

Athos, spying them, came striding over. ‘I’ve just been speaking to the captain…’

‘I’m sorry Athos. I didn't sleep well last night. When I finally managed to drop off I just didn’t realise the time and overslept. I know a soldier needs to be in the right place at the right time. It won't happen again,’ d'Artagnan interrupted. 

‘Hmm, well everyone is allowed one mistake. You’ve paid for it I hear. Don’t let it happen again,’ Athos conceded. 

‘I won’t,’ d'Artagnan promised. 

‘Is anything bothering you? Are you up to continuing your training?’ Athos asked with some concern.

‘I'm fine,’ was the quick reply. He grinned. ‘So what are we doing today?’

‘First things first. I’m guessing you rushed here without eating and you haven’t had any break since you walked…ran through the gates.’ d'Artagnan nodded. ‘First we eat.’

***

d'Artagnan had been going through his training for the past two hours. First up had been wrestling with Porthos which hadn’t gone too badly he supposed. He had managed to get one of the larger man’s arms behind his back and a knee to the ground before Porthos had picked him up and unceremoniously dropped him on the ground. d’Artagnan knew Porthos was not deliberately seeking to hurt him and always closely observed him to ensure he was not injured but the younger man always finished wrestling training feeling like he had been beaten up and the various bruises he was left with told the same story. 

Fencing with Athos followed after a short break for lunch and a drink. This was something he was good at and usually picked up quickly. Not today. His feet and arms just wouldn’t go where they were supposed to go. Athos was trying to teach him a new manoeuvre that looked easy when demonstrated by his mentor but which he found almost impossible to replicate. 

‘Again,’ Athos instructed. He failed, once more ending up on his back for perhaps the sixteenth time. Athos playfully swiped his student’s backside with the flat of his blade as he got to his feet. ‘Concentrate, d’Artagnan.’ 

He was concentrating. He really was. Anger coursed through his body like lightening. He forgot his promise to stay out of trouble. He swore at Athos and told him in no uncertain terms that what he was being asked to do was impossible. When he had finished his tirade, Athos stepped back, raised an eyebrow, folded his arms across his chest and waited. It only took a moment for d'Artagnan to calm down and realise his mistake. Aramis and Porthos, he knew, would likely have got away with talking to Athos like that but this was what Treville was meaning when he said it may seem like there was one rule for him and one for the others. They were allowed to speak more freely with Athos - and stood up to him when they thought it necessary - but they all knew each other well and had much more experience that he did. They had built up trust and respect for each other that was solid. d'Artagnan knew he was just a trainee and that it took time to build that kind of relationship particularly with the reserved Athos.

‘I’m sorry Athos. I don’t know what’s got into me today.’ Athos continued to look at him in silence. ‘I’m really sorry,’ d'Artagnan repeated his big brown eyes full of remorse. Athos took a step closer looking at him sternly.

‘You are under my authority in here d'Artagnan. That means you treat me with respect. And keep your temper under control. A soldier always thinks with his head not his heart no matter what pressure he is under. This is a warning. Another outburst like that and you will be on punishment duty again.’ He paused to let d'Artagnan process his rebuke. ‘Right. Let’s try again, shall we?’ 

They continued practising and all went well for several minutes. d’Artagnan was beginning to get the hang of the move but then Athos asked him to do it faster and that’s where things went wrong. After landing on his back, yet again, d’Artagnan forgot about Athos’ warning. He yelled in frustration and swiped the nearest table with his sword scattering the cups, plates and weapons resting on it. 

‘d'Artagnan!’ Athos roared. d'Artagnan froze. He closed then opened his eyes and his shoulders slumped as he slowly turned round. 

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled looking at the ground. What else could he say? He had no excuse. 

‘Pick up those things then report to Serge. Now!’ ordered Athos.

‘Yes, sir,’ replied d'Artagnan hurriedly putting the scattered items back on the table while Athos glared at him before going away to undertake his second punishment of the day. 

When he entered the kitchen Serge could see something was up when he saw d’Artagnan’s expression. 

‘What’s wrong young man? Come and have a taste of this bread that’s just out of the oven.’

‘Sorry, Serge. I can’t. Umm … Athos has sent me to you. I…I lost my temper with him. Twice. So I’ve to help out here as a punishment.’

‘Well now. You just sit down and have a taste of this bread and tell me what you think. That’s the first thing you can do to help.’ 

d’Artagnan smiled and took some bread. He sat down and tried it, declaring it delicious. He and Serge chatted for a few minutes before Serge said, ‘Well, I suppose I must put you to work. If Athos sent you then he may come to check up on us. I’ll continue with the meat while you get on with peeling and chopping the onions and garlic. Sorry it’s not a pleasant job but I would be in trouble myself if I gave you anything easier.’

‘That’s okay, it’s not your fault. I brought this on myself,’ d’Artagnan turned to where Serge pointed and saw the huge pile of onions and garlic waiting for him. He sighed and began the monotonous work of peeling and chopping hoping that the onions wouldn’t cause him to cry too much.

After an hour or two Athos sent for his trainee. By that time d’Artagnan had prepared all the garlic and onions (with tears streaming down his face) and was busy cleaning and washing some of the pots and utensils. If he had thought that the day itself was hot then it was nothing compared to the heat of the kitchen. He didn’t know how Serge coped with it.

d’Artagnan cleaned himself up once more before reporting to Athos who was in Treville’s office doing some paperwork for him. He desperately hoped Athos would forgive him and not give him some other horrible chore to do. This was turning out to be a really bad day: he just hoped it wouldn’t get any worse. 

‘I’m so sorry for losing my temper … again. I know it is something I need to work on. Please forgive me.’ 

‘I accept your apology and, yes, I agree that you need to reign in that temper of yours but, putting things into perspective, this is the first day you have been in trouble. Mistakes are inevitable so learn from them and move on.’

‘Thank you. I will. You can be assured of that,’ d’Artagnan replied with relief. 

‘Are you truly alright, d’Artagnan? If there is something wrong then it is better to share it. We all have bad days sometimes and sharing problems can help us cope. There’s no shame in having a problem and telling your brothers that. And that’s what we are: brothers.’ 

‘Yes, Athos, I’m fine. Just a little tired but fine. Really.’ It was the truth, but not the whole truth.

‘Okay in that case I need you to do a job for me. Treville is currently at the palace meeting with the King. I’d like you to take this urgent message to him. Hand it to him personally, say who it is from and then return here. There is no need to wait for a reply.’

d’Artagnan took the sealed envelope and placed it safely about his person. 

‘One more thing. Please stay out of trouble. They often say things come in threes. It is probably superstitious nonsense but you have already been in trouble twice today. Don’t let there be a third occasion.’ 

‘I’ll be careful,’ d’Artagnan promised as he left to carry out the task. As he walked to the garrison gates he prayed, ‘Please, God, keep me out of trouble … and help me to keep my temper under control.’


	4. Third Encounter With Trouble (Part 1)

d’Artagnan walked the short distance to the palace. Though he had told Athos he was fine, he knew he clearly wasn’t. He felt like everything was floating around him while he was weighed down. Thinking, let alone doing anything, was getting harder. The combination of heat and tiredness, combined with the awful day he was having, threatened to overwhelm him. Maybe he should have told Athos how he was really feeling but he didn’t want anyone, least of all Athos or Treville, knowing he was weak and couldn’t cope with a bit of heat and some lost sleep. To stop himself from feeling too guilty, he might mention it to Aramis later. Maybe he could suggest something to help him sleep. Meanwhile he would just have to toughen up and get on with the task entrusted to him. 

As he approached the palace gates he grew aware of a commotion. 

‘Please, I beseech you. My children’s lives are in danger. All I am asking is that you inform the King. Please. I beg you.’

The woman who was speaking had two belligerent Red Guards, one on each side of her, escorting her roughly off the grounds. Her clothing was simple and well-worn but clean and her long auburn hair had obviously been carefully done but now strands had come loose in her struggle to free herself from her escorts. 

‘Enough,’ one said as he pushed her forcefully through the gate hurling insults at her.

‘Begone woman,’ barked the other. ‘The King is too busy to deal with insignificant, petty complaints from the likes of you.’

She landed heavily on the ground in front of d’Artagnan whose temper began to rise at the needless violence and insults meted out by the guards but, just as he was about to rush forward to challenge them, he remembered the promise he made to Athos. He stopped. Rushing in heedlessly wouldn’t solve anything: he didn’t know the full story yet. He turned to the woman and, offering his hand, helped her up asking if she was hurt. She was tearful and shaken but not injured apart from minor grazes on her hands. 

‘Thank you for your kind assistance. May I ask if you would be in a position to take a message to the King?’

‘I’m training to be a Musketeer, madam. As yet he doesn’t know me but my captain has the ear of the King. Is your story a short one? I don’t wish to be rude but I’m afraid I’m on an urgent errand.’ 

‘It is a rather long story but I can be brief. My name is Eloise Villers and I am a widow. I owe taxes on my farm and my eldest son has been kidnapped. I have received word that he is to be sold to raise the money I owe. There is more to the story than that but I fear I have imposed on you long enough and I have no desire to land you in trouble.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that and I’m sorry the Red Guards have treated you harshly. Please, seek out the Musketeer garrison and ask for Captain Treville or his second-in-command Athos. They are both otherwise engaged at present but I will inform them of your likely visit.’

Eloise nodded. ‘I will call upon Captain Treville tomorrow and let him know what a polite young man you are. You must be a credit to the Musketeers. Thank you for taking the time to listen.’

As she walked away, d’Artagnan’s rage grew. He was angry at the injustices people had to suffer but even more angry at the Red Guards’ treatment of a defenceless woman. If those two Red Guards had been anywhere in sight, d’Artagnan would have challenged them: to hell with his promise to Athos.

Lost in his thoughts he strode through the palace grounds with a renewed energy fuelled by his ire. Oblivious to everything, he was startled when he walked into someone by the palace entrance. Automatically, he apologised then noticed it was a Red Guard. He almost lost it then but told himself that this was not the man responsible for the earlier incident. As he resumed walking the guard pushed him, demanding an apology. d’Artagnan looked at him in disbelief. ‘I just did, you idiot. Are you deaf or something?’ then realised that was not the best thing to have said. He didn’t care. He had had enough of pompous, aggressive Red Guards. Insults were traded before d’Artagnan landed the first punch, deftly ducking to avoid receiving one. The two men lunged for each other.

‘Stop this at once! What is the meaning of this!’

‘d’Artagnan!’

d’Artagnan turned towards the voices to see the King and Treville who had just exited the palace. At the same time the Red Guard, who was slower to react, shoved him to the ground. 

‘On your feet,’ Treville ordered, his fury written all over his face. ‘And stand at attention! Both of you!’

‘Thank you, Treville. Now let me handle this. Tell me, how did this disgraceful behaviour come about?’ 

Both men looked guiltily at each other but neither man said anything apart from apologising for their behaviour. 

‘Come now. There must have been a good reason for one of my Musketeers to be fighting a Red Guard. Haven’t either of you anything to say that will exonerate you and save you from punishment?’

Still, neither one responded. d’Artagnan was close to tears and didn’t trust himself to speak. All his earlier energy had departed leaving him exhausted and incapable of defending his actions. Not that he could anyway. He knew it took more than one to create a fight and the Red Guard was to blame too. He also knew that, even though the other man was looking for a fight, it was ultimately his temper that was the cause of this: he had taken all his earlier anger out on this man. Neither of them could really say anything that wouldn’t make matters worse. 

‘No? Very well then. You both know of my intolerance of fighting in the palace grounds. Had you been duelling I would have had no other option but to sentence you both to death and I have no wish to lose either my Musketeer or a Red Guard. Brawling is only one step away from duelling therefore it is necessary you learn a lesson from this. Twenty lashes each to be carried out by your respective captains. Treville, could you see to it that the Cardinal hears of this man’s crime,’ he pointed to the Red Guard, ‘and I will leave the Musketeer to you.’ Before Treville could respond, the King swiftly turned to re-enter the palace. 

‘Your Majesty,’ Treville called after him but to no avail. He turned back to the two men, first speaking to the Red Guard asking his name and then ordering him to report to his captain. Once he had gone Treville glared at d’Artagnan who looked like he was in shock. Treville raised then lowered his arms in exasperation and shook his head, sighing. ‘I’m too angry and disappointed in you to speak about your behaviour at this moment and I’ve a meeting with the Cardinal to attend. Return to the garrison immediately and wait in my office. Dismissed.’

Mutely d’Artagnan handed over the message from Athos and began the short walk back with tears filling his eyes. A few minutes ago he had been praised for his manners, now he had been reprimanded by the King himself and faced a third, more severe punishment. 

He cursed his run of bad luck. ‘Maybe things really do come in three’s,’ he thought to himself, ‘I hope so, I hope this is the last trouble I get myself into today as I can’t take much more of this.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading. Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left Kudos.


	5. Third Encounter With Trouble (Part 2)

d’Artagnan hastily climbed the stairs to Treville’s office hoping that Athos wasn’t still there and praying that no-one would see him. ‘How am I going to explain this? Athos will kill me!’ he thought. 

When he saw the empty office he sighed in relief and, closing the door behind him, allowed his tears to flow freely as he collapsed into a chair, bent over the desk in front of him and rested his head on his folded arms. 

A knock at the door silenced him. ‘Go away,’ he desperately thought suppressing his sobs and rubbing a hand over his eyes. The door opened. 

‘d’Artagnan. What’s happened? What’s wrong?’ 

Aramis. ‘Just leave me alone. I’ll be fine.’ 

‘Don’t be a fool. There’s no chance I’m leaving you in this state. Come on. What’s happened? Are you injured?’

‘Not yet,’ d’Artagnan sighed, ‘ask me again later.’

‘What do you mean by that? Are you to duel? If so, do you need a second, or some extra practise? Although you’ve been doing well enough under Athos’ tuition.’

d’Artagnan banged the table with his fists, leapt up in frustration and turned to face his brother. ‘I’m to be whipped! By Treville! On the orders of the King!’ he lowered his voice and his head, ‘and it was all my stupid fault.’ He started pacing restlessly. 

‘What happened?’ Aramis said softly, placing a comforting hand on his arm to stop him pacing. ‘Tell me.’ d’Artagnan decided he had nothing to gain by hiding anything and told him everything including the fact that he wasn’t sleeping or coping with the heat. When he had finished Aramis simply hugged him causing the younger man to start crying again. He held him until he began to relax and his breathing slowed.

‘I’m sorry,’ d’Artagnan said feeling embarrassed, ‘I’m not often as emotional. It’s because I’m tired.’

‘Don’t be sorry, there’s no shame in letting your emotions out. You’re safe with your brothers. What happens in this room goes no further than us, Porthos and Athos - and possibly Treville.’

‘There’s something else. In a way I feel I’ve broken a promise I made to my father when I was ten.’

‘Do you wish to tell me about it?’

d’Artagnan nodded and began. ‘As you know, it was just my father and me on the farm since my mother and sister died when I was nine. Unlike my mother, Father was usually easy-going and slow to anger and the farm work often kept me out of mischief. He gave me a few cuffs and slaps when I deserved them, nothing too serious, but I will never forget the day he whipped me, because of the pain but also because it was such an extreme reaction. 

‘Like today, it was the heat that was the root of my trouble. My father sent me to a farm on the other side of the village. He had given the man a loan of a harness while his was being fixed. He didn’t particularly like me I don’t think. I was made to stand and wait in the sun while he concluded some business. I resented standing in the heat especially since my father had done him a favour by lending him the harness. I was sweating and filled with self-righteousness on the way back. Wrongly I suppose as I had no right to demand his attention the moment I turned up. 

‘Anyway, at the gate of my farm I met some of my friends playing as they had finished their chores. I suppose I was envious of them too as they were free for the rest of the day, unlike me. One of my friends playfully blocked my entrance and I shouted at him to get out of the way. He shouted back at me saying I needed to say the password. Playing at spies was the game of the moment. I ended up punching him. Much harder than I intended. I knocked him unconscious. The next thing I knew was my father yelling at me. I froze suddenly feeling sick at what I had done. He had been mending the fence at the front and had seen everything. He checked to make sure Francois was okay. Fortunately he was only unconscious for a few minutes but he was very confused on wakening. Father was furious and told me to wait for him in the barn. 

‘I had plenty of time to reflect on my shameful behaviour before my father came in after taking Francois home. He had calmed down a little but he gave me such a scolding telling me it wasn’t honourable to take my anger and frustration out on a friend like that. He told me to take my shirt off and place my hands against the wall of the barn. I knew then he intended to whip me. He had threatened before but had never actually done it and, before this incident, I never thought he would actually go through with it. Sure enough he returned with an old riding whip. By this time I was crying and I tried pleading with him but still he gave me five lashes. It was painful, and two caused bleeding even although he hadn’t put all his strength into the blows. He left the barn without speaking or glancing back at me. That almost made me feel worse than any scolding or whipping could. My actions deserved some punishment I admit but I’ve always felt Father over-reacted especially as he could see how guilty I felt. 

‘Later that evening before we ate I apologised and was forgiven. I never asked him why he had reacted so strongly but, as he cleaned and put salve on my wounds, his hands were shaking and his eyes were bloodshot as if he had been weeping. He said he never wanted to whip me again. I promised he wouldn’t need to and I kept my promise.’ 

He left unsaid, ‘Until now…’ Now he is faced with the prospect of being whipped again for a similar crime. A mixture of thoughts raced through his mind. Why did he have to lose his temper? That guard had been looking for a fight but he still shouldn’t have taken out all his earlier rage on the man. If no-one had stopped him, how far would he have gone? And the punishment? It was going to be much worse that that meted out by his father. It was not so much the pain … he could cope with that … a soldier needs to face pain with courage … it was the shame and the disappointment in himself … but twenty lashes - five was bad enough - and what mess would his back be in afterwards? Why couldn’t he stop and think sometimes. What would his father have said if he was still alive? Why had he reacted so strongly when he was a child? The opportunity to seek an answer to that question had passed. How would Athos react, and Porthos? His last thought worried him the most: was he fit to be a Musketeer? 

He did not need to say all this though. Aramis guessed what was going through his mind. During this time d'Artagnan had resumed pacing restlessly up and down the office running his hands through his hair occasionally. Aramis stepped in front of him, putting his hands on d'Artagnan’s shoulders grounding him. He saw the distress in the younger man’s eyes and pulled him into another hug. ‘Calm down d'Artagnan. I don’t think you have broken your promise to your father: there’s a huge difference between a close friend and a Red Guard in my opinion. Don’t be so hard on yourself. No, you didn’t stop to think, again, but we don’t expect perfection from you. You stopped to think at the gates and, if the guard hadn’t been looking for a fight, you would have walked passed him after apologising. Know also that none of us is close to perfection. And yes,’ he paused and looked straight into the Gascon’s eyes, ‘you are fit to be a Musketeer.’ 

d'Artagnan pulled away and looked at him in disbelief before lowering his eyes and quietly saying, ‘How can you say that? I’ve brought disgrace to the Musketeer name. You have every right to send me away.’

‘No d'Artagnan. I made many mistakes when I first joined as did Porthos and, although he may not like admitting this now, Athos did far worse than losing his temper after he joined. When we were recruits like you Treville had cause to discipline us more than once. Like you will, we learned from our mistakes which have made us who we are today. You have the potential to be the greatest of us all. Don’t let one set back, one bad day, for that is what this is, defeat you. You are better and stronger than you give yourself credit for.

‘As for fighting with Red Guards? Well, half the garrison has probably been in front of Treville on a charge for fighting at some point, including myself, so don’t think you are any different there,’ he shrugged his shoulders and grinned, ‘although doing it in front of Treville and the King was maybe not so smart.

‘And the heat? Give yourself time. You’ll get used to it eventually. I’ve something you can take that’ll help you sleep and you’ll be back to normal after a good night’s rest.’

Aramis continued to comfort d'Artagnan and felt he was getting through to the boy. d'Artagnan looked so young and vulnerable that his heart went out to him. He was, naturally, still grieving for his father but he had been trying, misguidedly, to cope with things such as the heat and tiredness on his own. He knew Treville had to carry out the whipping ordered by the King but he hoped he would go easy on the lad. d’Artagnan had done a good enough job of punishing himself. He needed to go and talk to the others before the captain returned.


	6. Third Encounter With Trouble (Part 3)

As he had anticipated, when Treville returned to the garrison he found the three inseparables waiting for him. He dismounted and wearily faced them raising his hands and shaking his head slightly. ‘Sorry, there’s not much I can do. It’s not how I would have chosen to discipline him but I can’t refuse a direct order from the King particularly when d’Artagnan brought this on himself by striking a Red Guard in front of both of us.’ 

Aramis quickly summarised what had transpired in the office. ‘He has had a bad day, made some mistakes I admit, but he has done so well up till now and he is grieving for his father. His whole life has been turned upside down, getting used to soldiering and city life is no easy task,’ he finished. 

‘We know you need to do what the King has ordered but…’ Porthos hesitated as he sought to find the correct words.

‘All we are asking is that you are as lenient on him as you can be,’ Athos continued. 

Treville sighed. ‘After hearing what you have told me Aramis, part of me doesn't want this any more than you but, as you well know, it is my duty as captain to discipline my men and d’Artagnan merits some punishment for brawling no matter what the reason. You all know my intolerance for altercations of any kind with Red Guards. I made that very clear to our new recruit when he joined us. However, I can tell you that the King simply said “twenty lashes” therefore it need not be the whip that I use. I can promise you that his punishment will be over as quickly as possible and I will endeavour not to break any skin or leave any lasting marks.’ 

‘Thank you, Captain’, Athos spoke for all of them. ‘Please send him to my rooms when you are finished. And let him know we are not angry with him. At least not now.’

With a heavy heart Treville climbed the stairs to his office and entered. Disciplining his men was necessary and inevitable but it was the part of his job that he hated the most, even if they did deserve it. A dejected, miserable d’Artangan stood at attention in front of his desk. Treville sat at the desk and looked up at him. d’Artagnan kept his eyes lowered. ‘I am not going to say much. Aramis has spoken to me and I know you have berated yourself far more seriously than I could. The important thing is that you learn from this, put it behind you and continue to put your heart and soul into your training for you have great potential.’ 

‘So you’re not going to send me away?’

‘No, despite the trouble you have been in today, I don’t want to lose my best recruit in years. I hope you were not thinking of leaving.’

d’Artagnan looked him in the eye with a ghost of a smile on his lips now he knew his captain still had faith in him. ‘Not now. I apologise for everything today. I’m sorry for losing my temper and I’ll endeavour to keep it under control in future. I brought all this on myself.’ He took a deep breath and asked the question that was bothering him the most. ‘May I ask if I’m to be whipped in front of the others?’

‘No, you certainly don’t need that indignity after the day you’ve had.’

He relaxed somewhat. ‘Thank you.’ He took a steadying breath, ‘I know what you have to do and I’m ready.’

Treville stepped round beside his newest recruit putting a comforting hand on his back. ‘Let’s get this over with shall we. Now by rights I should use the whip for this but I am thinking more of myself here, and Aramis who would likely have to stitch you back up, when I say I don’t want you out of action with a bloody back for the next week or two, to say nothing of the cleaning this office may require afterwards. I am therefore going to use a cane. If I am ever required to whip you again in the future, be assured I will not hesitate to use the whip itself nor will I go easy on you. Do you understand?’ 

d’Artagnan nodded, ‘Yes, sir.’ 

‘Take off your weapon’s belt, doublet and shirt then place your hands against the wall,’ Treville instructed. While d’Artagnan complied, he went to a cabinet in the corner of his office and brought out a long thin rod. d’Artagnan glanced at it with some trepidation but forced himself to be calm, determined to take what was coming to him with as much dignity as possible.

Treville turned back to find d’Artagnan was in position. He briefly put a steadying hand on his shoulder. ‘I will begin.’ The first few strokes were not too bad only causing him to wince and tense his back and stomach muscles in response to the sting. By the eighth he was biting his lip to stop himself making a sound. The blows were mainly landing on his upper back and the sting increased with each one. By the fifteenth his determination not to make a sound was under threat but he managed to remain stoically silent, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. Treville kept up a steady rhythm and it was soon over. He had fulfilled his promise: d’Artagnan’s back should show little sign of his ordeal by tomorrow. Some bruising perhaps but nothing more. 

d’Artagnan stayed in position until Treville said, ‘We’re finished. I don’t want to see you in this position again. Go and find Athos and your other brothers, they are waiting for you in Athos’ rooms. He has forgiven you, as have I.’

‘Thank you, Captain,’ d’Artagnan said as he got fully dressed wincing slightly when his clothing rubbed against his sensitive back. ‘I won’t let you or the Musketeers down again.’


	7. All For One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to split the last chapter into two so here is the last part. Also I made some minor changes to chapter 3.

d’Artagnan knocked on Athos’ door and slunk in guiltily unsure of the reception he would get. ‘You’re an idiot,’ Athos stated flatly stepping towards him and briefly squeezing his upper arm affectionately.

‘An’ a fool,’ chipped in Porthos smiling, shaking his head then giving his friend a gentle hug being mindful of his injuries.

‘But you’re our little brother, we’re here for you and we forgive you,’ Aramis stated looking pointedly at the other two. d’Artagnan gave a weak smile.

Athos took control. ‘First, strip and let Aramis tend to your back.’

‘I’m fine really I …’

‘Will he ever learn!’ Athos thought in exasperation. Out loud he stated, ‘That’s the third lie you have told me today. We’ll talk about that later. Strip. Now.’

Having no desire to get into more trouble, d’Artagnan obeyed without further hesitation or argument and allowed Aramis to examine his back which was covered with welts. ‘Looks sore but no real damage done. Treville was true to his word. I’ll just rub some ointment on to help with the pain. Sit still and I’ll be as gentle as I can.’

Back tended to, and with some food and drink thrust in front of him with an order to eat, d’Artagnan was feeling much better. 

Athos watched him eat as he and the others joined their brother at the table. After allowing d’Artagnan time to finish, he said gently, ‘Tell me how you are.’ His voice became stern. ‘Without lying.’

‘I’m … I’m sore … exhausted … still a bit overwhelmed with all that’s happened … and hot …,’ he shrugged, ‘and not as hungry and thirsty as I was a few minutes ago.’

‘Good. I mean good you are telling the truth. You told me you were fine earlier today. Twice. Plainly you were not. If you had told me you were finding the heat a challenge, do you think I would have sent you to assist Serge in the hottest part of the garrison?’ The younger man shook his head. ‘No. And because you chose to hide how you were feeling, it makes the task I gave you seem particularly cruel and I’ve no desire to be cruel to you. I apologise. If I had known, I would have handled the situation differently.’

‘You have no need to apologise Athos, you have done nothing wrong. It’s me who should apologise to you. I’m sorry I lied. I suppose I didn’t want you to think I was weak.’

Porthos snorted. ‘Weak? That’s something you’re certainly not! But I, probably more than anyone, know ‘ow you feel. See, on the streets growing up, show any weakness and you were a target. Hiding your true feelings and hurts was essential for survival. Survival of the fittest, see. I hid ‘ow I was feeling when I was training. For the same reasons as you. It was ‘ard for me to open up and tell my brothers ‘ow I really was but I learned it’s not a weakness to tell the truth. The opposite in fact. When you rely on the person beside you to ‘ave your back, you need to know what form they are on. Are they able to give their full attention? Do you need to look out for them? Do they need to look out for you? That’s why telling the truth is so important and why the Musketeers are so strong. All for one and one for all, and all that.’

‘Well put Porthos. I couldn’t have said it better myself,’ Aramis declared clapping him on the back. ‘As I said earlier, no-one expects you to be prefect. You’ve had a difficult time lately but things’ll improve. For now though you need to rest. Drink this. It will help you sleep and, trust me, things will seem better in the morning.’ He held out a small bottle which the Gascon took and drank. 

‘Thanks. All of you. For everything. It has been hard recently but I will try harder.’ 

‘Just tell us the truth. We’ll be happy with that.’ Athos pretended to glare and waggled a finger at him. ‘There will be consequences if you don’t.’ 

Porthos looked at him, ‘Hmm, that apply to you too Athos?’ 

Athos glared. ‘Porthos, that’s not helpful.’

‘Yeah. Sorry,’ but he looked at Aramis and both grinned. Athos shot a glare in Aramis’ direction too. 

‘What? I didn’t say anything!’ Aramis protested still grinning. d’Artagnan grinned too. His brothers’ banter always made him forget about his problems.

Athos turned back to d’Artagnan and became business-like again. ‘Now off to bed with you. You can sleep here tonight. Light duties tomorrow, if you are up to it, until Aramis declares you fully fit.’ He smiled. ‘By the sounds of it we may have a mission coming up if your acquaintance is true to her word and we want you fit for that.’

‘Mmm’ was all d’Artagnan could manage as his eyelids drooped sleepily, head falling forward to rest on his chest. 

‘Looks like my medicine has taken effect. Come on. Let’s get him to bed. Porthos you take his arms, I’ll take his legs. And mind his back.’

The three inseparables paused to look affectionately at their little brother looking so young and innocent now he was sleeping, each reflecting on how their lives were changing for the better with him around. Aramis leant forwards and kissed his forehead. ‘Sleep well little brother. You’re going to keep us all on our toes but we love you, you know.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and thank you so much to those who have commented and left kudos. Hope you enjoyed it. I hadn't intended to, but I may write a sequel to this. It's just vague ideas just now so it might be a while before it is written.


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